Dance For The Devil

by S. Kodejs

  “Yes, that,” Gil said savagely, approaching a cringing and screaming Amy. “If you leave this room, or interfere in anyway,” Gil commanded to Jason, “I’ll kill the bitch afterwards. Your punishment is to watch and take notes. See how a real man gets it done.”

  To Amy, Gil said, “Lay still, you little slut, and it won’t hurt too much. If your boyfriend had gotten the job done like he was supposed to, it would hurt a lot less. As it is, I’m saddled with deflowering yet another virgin, but what the hell, a man’s got to make some sacrifices. Come on, Amy, spread your legs.”

  She screamed and kicked and thrashed as Gil approached, grinning maniacally. “You want it rough, eh? Well, I like it that way, too.” He smashed his fist viciously into her face and blood spurted from her nose.

  As he lowered himself onto her, he spared a quick glance at Jason, who lay sobbing in the corner. “No, Son, you’re supposed to watch.” Then he began pounding away, grunting in satisfaction.

  When he was finished, he flipped Amy over roughly, and maintaining his erection, proceeded to start over, plunging savagely, causing Amy to scream anew. “This, Son, is what’s known as the backdoor. Some call it sodomy, but I prefer to call it a nice, tight fit.”

  **

  “Sergeant? I have an update on that abandoned baby call. Dispatch took a second call, this one from a parent claiming the incident was a childish prank.”

  Benny Carmichael considered for less than a second. “Check it out anyway. So far, these anonymous tips have panned out, and I’ve got a nasty feeling about this one.”

  The officer left just as Jake Montclaire burst in. “My son is missing.”

  “Calm down,” Carmichael ordered. “Take a deep breath and tell me what happened.”

  “I don’t need to take a deep breath, you asshole. My son is gone and that makes both of my kids missing. Two. Count ‘em: two. I want to find him, now.”

  “Hey, don’t take it out on me. I’m one of the good guys.

  Jake looked like he wanted to slug someone. Cari entered the room, out of breath, and placed a calming hand on his shoulder. “Jake, he’s right, it’s not his fault.”

  Jake slumped suddenly. “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just... I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I feel like my guts are being ripped out. First Amy, now Skeeter. Why don’t these bastards come after me, instead of preying on innocent children? Goddamned cowards.”

  “Do you know for sure your son was abducted by the same people? Is it possible he ran away, or is staying at a friend’s house and forgot to call?”

  “No,” Jake ground out savagely. “We’ve checked. He said he was staying at a friend’s house, only he never showed up.”

  “Was he expected?”

  “No, that’s where it gets all screwy. No plans were set, he lied to us.”

  “I see.” Carmichael scribbled something in his notepad and Jake felt his world implode.

  “No, you don’t understand. Skeeter’s not like that, he doesn’t lie. Amy, yes, she was going through a difficult time. But not Skeet. He’s as normal as apple pie.”

  “Has your son been acting strangely, lately? Moody? Withdrawn? Anything out of normal range?’

  Jake snorted harshly. “That’s just it, nothing has been normal, lately. Sure, he’s been a little quiet, but who wouldn’t be, given what we’re going through. Hell, I’ve been moody and withdrawn.”

  “But he did lie to you.”

  “Yes.” Jake sagged in defeat. “Yes, he did. Christ, this time I knew the warning signs and I still didn’t pay attention. I’ve been so focused on finding Amy that Skeeter’s been left out.”

  “That’s not true,” Cari said. “You spend lots of time with him. You’re an excellent father, Jake. Don’t let anyone convince you you’re not.”

  “Okay,” Carmichael interjected. “We’re going to treat this as an abduction, just to be prudent. Get me a recent picture of the boy and I’ll have it posted in every police station, squad car, telephone pole and point of departure on this island. I’ll alert the media and get them to put blurbs on the news and local radio stations, and we’ll contact the American border authorities.

  “In the meantime,” Carmichael continued, then stopped abruptly. “Oh, shit... this just came in. The body of an unidentified male, matching your son’s description, was found in Saanich, dumped in a ditch. Multiple stab wounds.... Jesus, Jake, you’d better get down to the morgue to identify.”

  Jake’s face went as white as marble. “No,” he whispered. “Oh, God, please no.”

  **

  Jason pulled himself up, screaming, and began to attack Gil. The blows caught his father off guard, and Gil rolled off of Amy, covering his face.

  “You stinking bastard,” Jason yelled. “I’ll kill you.” He grabbed the DVD player, ripping it from the wall, and smashed it onto Gil’s head.

  “Enough,” Gil thundered, staggering backwards, but still, Jason kept at him. Amy, screaming, drew her legs up and scurried to the corner of the bed. She was in bad shape, blood poured freely from her nose. Her lower regions were a burning tangle of pain.

  “I’ll kill you, you rotten maggot,” Jason hollered, smashing his fists at Gil’s face.

  Gil regained his balance and punched back, the blow catching Jason squarely in the jaw. “Oh, you’re going to pay for this,” Gil threatened.

  Jason eyed him, anger renewed at the sight of Gil’s pants hanging around his ankles. “I am paying,” he hurled back. “I’ve been paying my whole fucking life. Just having you for a father is the worst punishment I could ever have. Can’t you see this? You’re hideous. An abomination. I wish you were dead, and I wish you weren’t my father.”

  Gil rubbed his lip. “Then you’ve got your wish, you ungrateful piece of shit. You’re not my son, at least, not my biological son. That’s right, you’re adopted.” Gil’s eyes flashed savagely. “I should have known it would never work without my strength and intelligence running in your veins. It’s false what they say about environment, it’s bloodlines that count.”

  Gil spat blood on the floor, then wiped his mouth. “Jason, you were raised to be a strong, powerful man, and yet you’re nothing but a bleeding-heart pussy. Do you hear me, boy? You’re a callow, lowbred, good-for-nothing piece of shit, and I’ve wasted sixteen years trying to mold you into something you’ll never be. You sicken me. Get out of my sight before I bash your brains in along with your girlfriend’s.”

  “What?” Jason whispered. “Is it true? I’m not your son?”

  “No, you’re a gutter-rat. I should have known it would never work, but Suzanne insisted, wanted a baby so badly, and we couldn’t have one of our own. So we took you, and lavished you, and spoilt you, taught you everything, reared you for greatness... and look how you turned out: a weak-willed, snivelling idiot.”

  Jason was crying and his mouth was moving in an odd way. It was hard to tell through his split and swollen lips, but he appeared to be smiling. “Thank you,” he whispered. “All my life I’ve prayed you weren’t my real parents, prayed to Satan, prayed to God, prayed to anyone who would listen.”

  Gil snorted his disgust. “I’m as close to a father as you’ll ever have. Don’t say a word about this to your mother or it’ll break her heart. Get yourself cleaned up and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

  **

  The morgue is always a lousy place to visit, but when you’re going to identify a body, it’s devastating. And if that body belongs to a child, the sensation increases hundredfold. Jake felt a dizzying nausea wash through his veins as the attendant uncovered the small form, and he began praying fervently to a God he’d begun to doubt even existed.

  The body was in bad shape, but Jake knew instantly it wasn’t Skeeter. His relief washed over him like a tidal wave. “This poor kid isn’t my son.”

  The morgue attendant nodded and covered the body.

  Jake didn’t need to tell Cari and Carmichael, they could see the answer on his face.

>   “Okay,” Carmichael said, breathing deeply. “That’s one thing in our favor. I’m heading back to the station to get started on those APB’s. What are your plans?”

  “You probably don’t want to know.”

  “Is it legal?”

  Jake remained mute and Carmichael sighed. “You’re right, I probably don’t want to know. Keep your nose out of trouble, but call me if you need me.”

  “Thanks. Oh, Sergeant? I’m sorry I called you an asshole.”

  “Forget it,” Benny shrugged. “I’ve been called worse. A lot worse.”

  **

  Skeeter regained consciousness slowly. Something foul was stuffed in his mouth and he found it difficult to breath. It was dark and cramped, and a heavy gasoline odor permeated the stale air. A trunk, he thought, I’m in the trunk of a car.

  His hands were untethered and he felt around, settling on a thin, metal object. A wrench of some sort? He began to tap experimentally. To his surprise, the trunk popped open. Squinting at the sudden light, he climbed out. His entire body ached, and he stretched slowly, trying to get his bearings.

  It was daylight, with heavy cloud and a light, misty rain. He was in a parking lot, although there were no other vehicles except for the one he’d just climbed out of. The building looming over him was a... church? No, more than that. It looked like a castle.

  His mouth hurt, and he put a tentative finger against his lip, not surprised to feel dried blood. Rat had really whacked him a good one.

  Voices.

  He heard male voices, a couple of them, arguing and coming closer.

  But which direction?

  Skeeter looked wildly around. No place to hide. He sprinted toward the castle, wondering about calling for help, then decided to remain quiet. Didn’t look like anyone was around to help him, anyhow.

  Up the front stairs? No, too obvious. He’d pretend like this was a game of hide’n’seek. Hide somewhere sneaky, where no one could find him. Like under the hedge, or in the stairwell, or... through that open window.

  He was inside now. It was a castle, it said so right on the sign: Lochaven Castle Historic Museum. There was the ticket booth, but no one in it, and everything was dark. The castle was obviously closed.

  Sharp knocking on the door. “Anyone in there?”

  Skeeter froze.

  The door started rattling. “He’s in there,” someone said, and it sounded like Rat, although Skeeter couldn’t be certain. “I bet the little bastard’s inside.”

  “Break the door down.”

  Skeeter ran. Through a door and around a corner, and up about a million stairs.

  **

  “Are we going where I think we’re going?” Cari asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Do you think that’s wise?”

  “I’m tired of being wise. Now I want to get even.”

  “But, Jake –”

  “Listen,” he said through gritted teeth, “I’ve tried being patient and reasonable, and I’ve tried cooperating with the cops. I’ve tried using my brain and modern technology, by gathering information and surfing the ‘net. When that failed, I tried the weird: spells and incantations and a living room full of witches who travelled astrally and made hocus-pocus predictions with crystal balls. I’ve even tried dressing for success, wearing a protection amulet, which contains things I don’t even want to think about, and donning a ridiculous hooded cape and fake tattoos.”

  She looked straight ahead. “And your point is?”

  “My point is, I’ve tried every recourse available, and now I’m resorting to the old-fashioned one.”

  “Which is?”

  “Violence.” He pulled into the parking lot of T-Bone’s gun shop.

  “But, Jake...”

  “Can you think of a better plan?”

  She bit her lip.

  “Are you with me?”

  She hesitated for a moment. “As long as you understand that as neo-pagan witch, I’m a pacifist and don’t believe in harming any living creature.”

  “Fair enough, but if I find the lowlife, slimy bastards who’ve taken my kids, and find they’ve so much as laid a finger on either one of them, I’m going to blow their fucking brains out. Just so you understand.”

  “Okay,” she nodded, eyes wide. “I can live with that.”

  **

  The moment Gil left, Jason gathered Amy in his arms. “I’m sorry,” he cried, his tears mingling with hers. “It’s my fault.”

  “No,” she said, her voice coming in spasms. “It’s not your fault, it’s his. He’s an animal.” Amy sobbed a bit more. “Thanks for stopping him, Jason.”

  Guilt coursed through him. It was his fault. He was the reason Amy was here. He played a huge part in coercing her, following Gil’s orders because he was afraid not to. “I’m going to get you out of here, Amy, I promise. Can you walk?”

  “I don’t know. I hurt pretty bad.”

  “Come on, lean on me. The longer we take, the more chance he’ll come back.”

  “Will you take me home?”

  “I’m not sure where your home is, anymore. But we’ll figure something out. If we can’t find your dad, we’ll go to a hospital, or maybe to the police. Come on, Amy, hurry.”

  “I can’t walk. It hurts too much.”

  “Then I’ll carry you.” He picked her up and left the room, stopping abruptly. Gil was standing there, listening. “Going to the police, eh?” he sneered. “How dare you double-cross me after everything I’ve done for you? You’re finished, you ungrateful little prick. Do you hear me? From now on, you cease to be my son. You are nothing to me, nothing.” Gil shoved Jason squarely, sending them reeling back into the cell.

  Then Gil slammed the door and turned the lock. “You stay with your whore until I think up a suitable revenge for both of you.”

  **

  Skeeter was high up, in a tower. The distant banging continued, and he peeked through the window and looked down.

  Nothing.

  The banging stopped abruptly. Had they given up? He craned his head, listening. They were calling his name. “Skeeter? We know you’re in there, man, there’s no point in hiding. Come out now and make it easy on yourself. Don’t make us mad or you’ll be sorry.”

  Skeeter looked desperately around for a hiding spot. The tower was too small, they’d see him the moment they entered.

  Was it too late to retrace his steps and find someplace better? He listened, again, hearing the pounding of his heart.

  Wait. No, that wasn’t his heart. It was footsteps. Rat was coming after him, up the tower.

  **

  T-Bone grinned creepily as they entered the gun shop. He waved away his assistant, a muscular young man in military clothing. “I’ll help these guys, Mack.” To Jake, he said, “Knew you’d be back. So how was the meeting last night?”

  “You were right, we were too late.”

  “Told you.”

  “Wasn’t a total loss, though. Decided it was a nice area for... hunting,” Jake said.

  “Hunting, huh? What, bear?”

  “Smaller.”

  “Duck?”

  “Bigger.”

  T-Bone’s pale eyes sparkled. “Can you be specific?”

  “Something the size of a deer.”

  “A deer, right.” He laughed his strange, raspy laugh. “Alrighty, then, I’ll need a name for the criminal check. Can’t be too careful these days, if you get my drift.”

  “Absolutely,” Jake said, producing a driver’s licence.

  “You’ll be wanting a rifle, then?”

  “I was thinking of something more portable, like a revolver. Something streamline, something powerful.”

  “For deer hunting? It’s almost outta season, you know.”

  “Not the kind of deer I’m hunting, if you get my drift.”

  T-Bone nodded sagely. “I believe I do. Have much experience with guns?”

  “Not since I was a kid goofing around with my pellet rifle.”


  “Then you’ll be wanting something easy to shoot, like a scatter gun. The cops use them a lot because they don’t have to be an excellent shot. Take this puppy here, it basically aims itself. Pull the trigger and whoosh, out comes a spray of shot. It’s an awesome killing machine at close and medium range, but if you want long-range you’ll need something else.”

  “No, close is fine.”

  “Yeah, deer are friendly critters. You can often get quite close. Now, something for the lady?”

  “Most definitely.”

  “How about this sweet little Browning automatic? It’s nice and light, only two pounds, and packs fourteen rounds in its magazine. Nice little back up piece, in case those deer get hostile.”

  “That’ll do.”

  “And some ammunition?”

  “You bet. Give me the works.”

  T-Bone rang up the sale and Jake paid cash. “Good luck,” he said, winking. “Happy hunting.”

  Jake smiled grimly and left the store. “Well, that was relatively painless,” he told Cari.

  “I imagine the painful part comes after you pull the trigger, no matter what side of the gun you’re on.”

  He cupped his hand around the shotgun, weighing it for size. “Maybe, but I think I’d rather be on this side.”

  “I’ll remind you of that when I visit you in prison.”

  “Don’t worry, this won’t be traced back to me. I used phoney I.D.”

  “Where’d you get that?”

  “Made it on the computer. See?”

  She looked at it dubiously. “Terrible quality. I can’t believe he accepted it.”

  “He didn’t care, it was just a formality. For the price I paid, I could have shown him the license of an eighty-year-old woman and he would have accepted it.”

  Cari frowned. “I’m not sure I follow you.”

  “As bona fide cult members, we can get any weapon we desire.”

  She was beginning to understand. “Untraceable weapons. Very nasty and highly illegal.”

  “Don’t forget immoral.”

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  “Probably more than I should. After all the waiting and worrying, it feels good to be doing something proactive.”

  She began to mumble softly and he looked at her quizzically. “Now what are you doing?” Jake asked.